And One Man in his Time Plays Many Parts
by Bloomed from Love
Summary: Nobody really knew Carlisle. Nobody had discovered his full, complete past - from his youth spent in gloomy London to his days as an old vampire in Forks - until now. This is his story, from the very beginning.
1. Life in London

It all commenced with a single glance. A glance so pure, so comforting and yet so electrifying that he stood sheepishly, stunned by a sudden warmth that flowed through his frail body. He felt a light tremble in my hands, and a strong knot in his throat. He was thankful she wasn't talking to him. He could feel the thrill of her lazuline gaze linger in the air, making it hard for him to focus his thoughts on the opinion he was about to express to his father. She looked once more, then finally let her eyes fall on the straw-covered floor. She was just as shy as he was, he said to himself, as if it made her a better person.

"Well, son?"

His father's voice interrupted the vague cloud he was floating in; and instantly he felt propelled back on earth, torn from the beauty and the magic of what he had just experienced. He looked around, as if startled, before meeting his father's piercing eyes.

"Oh…" said Carlisle. He completely forgot what he was about to say. "Never mind."

"Oh, but I do mind," said Pastor Cullen. "I mind very much to know my son's thoughts on this particular subjet."

"I do not have any."

"It seemed to me that you did."

"I…" he stammered, trying to find the correct thing to answer to a man such as his father. "I did, but after briefly analysing the consequences of uttering such a thing I prefer to forget it entirely."

"Pastor Cullen!" came a small cry on their right. Both heads snapped in unison to see a stout man with a blond beard run towards them. "Pastor!"

"Carlisle, come, let us not dwell on this matter any longer," Father said, grabbing his son's arm and dragging him to the small door that led out into the filthy streets of London.

"But, Father, that man…"

"Later," Father said abruptly, pulling Carlisle with even more insistence towards the cool air.

Once outside, the foul odor of rotten vegetables and garbage enrobed them, making them both wrinkle their noses in disgust. They were still having trouble getting accustomed to this particular area of London, where the stench of every citizen's waste seemed to be five times greater than what they were used to. The people here gave the impression of having spend their days rolling in mud, like pigs – even the women and the little children. Both Carlisle and Father waited impatiently to return to their own corner of the town, where the fetid aroma was less and lighter, and where Father greatly encouraged followers to cleanse themselves once a week.

"Will you please tell me what's going on… Father?" asked Carlisle as they marched towards the rooms they had rented for their stay.

"I sentenced that man's wife to death about a week from to-day," said Father in a haughty tone. "For practicing witchcraft and following the orders of Satan. Shame that red hair of her's gave her away."

It wasn't unnatural to get accused of anything unholy when one's hair was red and flamboyant. Usually neighbors and friends would follow closely one's every gesture and every word, and if anything that may spark corruption was uttered, they would immediately run to the pastor, their sole confident. Carlisle, though, couldn't see why one should get judged solely by the color of their mane. He wasn't esteemed bad or evil because of his golden locks, nor was his father because of his light brown ones. He didn't understand certain peoples' aversion to other's only because they were different.

_Different_.

That word echoed through his mind for a while before sinking into his thoughts. The girl he had seen today was different. Not because of her appearance, but because of the way she had looked up at him, and the way she had made him feel warm and happy. She had an appealing effect on him, but he didn't know her yet. He wanted to. He felt as if he needed to, or else his world will crumble apart.

Father still continued, oblivious to my sullen mood. "I sense Satan's followers everywhere here… Witches mainly. Have you seen the number of women with the devil's hair? I even detected some men. This is bad, Carlisle. You must help me. You are not too young, I believe, to acknowledge the fact that despicable beasts are walking freely amongst us, and that they are trying to taint our pure souls and render us helpless. They want us to fall from the grace of God. We must eradicate evil. You and John are to help."

"Why John?"

"Because that good man has proved himself to be an excellent follower and very strict when it comes to following thy Lord's orders. Much unlike you, do you not think it so?"

Carlisle kept silent. John was a friend of his, even though he had never really found anything friendly nor agreable in him. A year or so younger than Carlisle was, he displayed more courage and volunteering in the eyes of the Anglican Church and those of Father. He was a silent and austere young man who, whenever his mouth opened, couldn't help but speak in an authoritative tone. He fasted regularly and read his Bible as often as he could – just like any other good religious should. I'm not a good one, then, thought Carlisle. He hated doing this. He wanted to be free like the peasants that regularly came to their church for food or forgiveness, or anything else that might help them live on and die faithful to God. He would have prefered being a nobleman, even though they were all full of terrible vices. Anything but having to live a most monotone life.


	2. My Fair Lady

"Miss Leigh!"

Carlisle was very cautious about this, but still he felt like a total idiot for coming here in the middle of the night.

"Miss Leigh!" he whispered, throwing another pebble on the window. Although her room was on the first floor, he didn't want to get to close to her window just in case her father showed up and caught him.

Finally, a pair of white hands opened the window.

Leigh Alvey stood there in a second, strands of her dark hair escaping from her bonnet. She still hadn't changed into her nightgown and her present dress huged her curvy figure tightly. His eyes sparkled with desire as she moved closer to the window sill.

"Mr Cullen?" she whispered, a slight surprise on her sweet face. "Oh my, what are you doing here?"

"I… I came to talk to you, dear maiden," said Carlisle with a large grin. Leigh blushed. Oh, how he loved the way her cheeks flushed red, and how she placed a delicate hand on her mouth to cover her smile.

"I enjoy your company very much, Miss Leigh," he declared.

She nodded. "And I enjoy your's just as much, Mr Cullen."

"If you truly do, then call me Carlisle."

Her small smile grew larger and she giggled. "Fine… Carlisle." The way she said his name, so coquettishly and gingerly, made butterflies flutter in his stomach.

There was a loud thud and Leigh suddenly turned around. "Oh! my sister is coming to bed – I must go, Mr Cullen, I must."

Carlisle didn't even pay attention to the fact that she didn't use his christian name. He quickly grabbed her hand before she hand time to flee. She turned to look at him, a frenzy expression in her eyes. Those beautiful, sapphire-like eyes… The frown on her forehead melted away as she gazed into his love-hungry eyes.

"Please, sir, I must…" she whispered, trying to wriggle her hand from his strong grasp.

"Promise to meet me tomorrow, behind St-Andrews church," he said solemnly.

"Yes, I will, yes…"

He took her hand and kissed it before dashing under the window sill. Leigh didn't close the shutters.

"Leigh," came a soft voice from the bedroom, "aren't you asleep yet?"

That must be her sister, said Carlisle to himself.

"Ah… No, no, I'm getting ready, Alodie."

Carefully, he elevated himself on his heels to steal a last glance of his beloved. His face instantly grew red as he realized she was changing into a white nightgown. He quickly looked away, to the other side of the room. Alodie, Leigh's sister, seemed much older than her. She was taller and had a darker complexion. Alodie was already in bed and she waited for her sister to finish her toilette before blowing out the candle. Being of hardly above the poor, Leigh and Alodie had to share a small bed. Carlisle promised to himself to give Leigh all the comfort she needed once they married.

Sighing, he turned to walk home. He had seen Leigh around this area of town quite a few times and had one day found the courage to go talk to her. She seemed like an adorable, kind young lady, no older than sixteen. The seven year gap between them was obviously not a problem to their love. Leigh was the last child in a family of three sons and five daughters. Carlisle was sure her father, a blacksmith, wouldn't mind giving her up to him as he had so many mouths to feed and so little pay.

That night, as he crawled into bed, the vision of her undressing resurfaced in his mind. She had such a lovely, shapely figure, with full breasts and prominent hips. The way her dark hair had fallen in waves around her only served to arouse him even more; it was as if she were a Greek goddess, an enchantress, an Aphrodite.

He drifted to sleep with a smile on his face.

.

"I… I'm here, Mr Cullen."

He closed his eyes as her gentle voice reached him, then turned around. "I'm glad you are, Miss Leigh." He moved closer to her, held out his hand, and she placed hers hesitantly in it. He took her hand to his lips and kissed it gently while looking at her. Her hand was soft and hfelt her shiver slightly when his burning lips had graced it. "… but you may call me Carlisle," he reminded her with a sly smile.

Her adorable giggle made him yearn to embrace her. He asked, "Was it easy getting here?"

"Oh yes… But I do hate lying to my sister," she said and hung her head down. Carlisle placed a loving hand and raised her head, gazing into her lovely eyes.

He kissed her.

Her reaction wasn't as he had expected. She gasped and pulled away from him, her eyes wide with shock, but after calming her heart's palpitations down, she leaned back in and let him place his warm lips on hers.

It was the most soothing and passionate feeling Carlisle had ever experienced. Raised in the closed world of his father, which was full of prayers, prayers, more prayers and admitting one's sins, Carlisle hadn't really had a chance of loving a girl. Of course he would often spy on other pastor's daughters, but that was it. He was terribly shy and the most he had ever done with a girl was to exchange glances.

That is, until now.

.

"Father, I'm getting married," he announced suddenly as he pushed open the heavy door of their rooms.


End file.
